Gazel
(SULTAN SEL I M III.)
G AZEL
Ah! through grief for thee mine eyes blood, every night and day, weep;
Those who know my bitter sorrow's secret pang for aye weep.
When they see me blood-besmeared by my bosom's red wound,
Pitying my doleful plight, the garden's flowerets gay weep.
When he viewed my bleeding heart, ruth had yon physician;
Quoth he: " Doth the cure for thee, Sick of love-dismay, weep. "
Yet to me doth yonder Torment of the Soul no grace show;
For my plight do all my friends, who me thus sick survey, weep.
E'en as gazeth on thy cheek, amidst his woes, Ilh a m i ,
Though his face may smiling be, his heart doth blood alway weep.
G AZEL
Ah! through grief for thee mine eyes blood, every night and day, weep;
Those who know my bitter sorrow's secret pang for aye weep.
When they see me blood-besmeared by my bosom's red wound,
Pitying my doleful plight, the garden's flowerets gay weep.
When he viewed my bleeding heart, ruth had yon physician;
Quoth he: " Doth the cure for thee, Sick of love-dismay, weep. "
Yet to me doth yonder Torment of the Soul no grace show;
For my plight do all my friends, who me thus sick survey, weep.
E'en as gazeth on thy cheek, amidst his woes, Ilh a m i ,
Though his face may smiling be, his heart doth blood alway weep.
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